Hidden in the Mists
by harllett
Summary: Hidden in the mists is an island, home to women who heal the wounded and fight like men. When the Sarmatian Knights arrive at Avalon, their lives will be changed forever by the mysterious isle and its inhabitants.
1. Arrival at Avalon

**Disclaimer** : I don't own anything except any characters you don't recognise from the King Arthur movie. And this will be the same throughout the story, so I don't have to keep repeating myself and boring you.

**Rating** : T

**Summary** : Hidden in the mists is an island, home to women who heal the wounded and fight like men. When the Sarmatian Knights arrive at Avalon, their lives are changed forever as they are in turn affected by the mysterious isle and its inhabitants.

**Author's Note** : Yes, I know, I need to finish A Life Spent Longing and Free Spirit. But this story has been in my head for almost a month now and I finally gave in to temptation and started writing it! I really don't like ALSL anymore, but I'm enjoying writing this, and writing should be fun, right? But for anyone who reads ALSL don't worry, it will get finished. And there is only one chapter left of Free Spirit so, hey ho, here we go… (Wow, that rhymed!)

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**Chapter 1 : Arrival at Avalon**

Warm spring air filtered into a grey stone room, the sunlight splaying across the stone and brightening the plain area. Slouched in a chair, booted feet resting on the window ledge, a young woman stared out at the island that she called home.

A long, tree-lined avenue led away from the building she was in, until it reached an impressive, wrought-iron gate that allowed passage through the thick stone wall that surrounded the area. On the right a lush green plain stretched to the edge of a forest, trees beginning to regain their life after the bare months of winter. To the left of the walled garden was a worn track leading to the island's village. Behind, the woman knew, was a rocky gorge carved by the motions of a fast-flowing river, and beyond that the sparkling ocean.

The island was Avalon, and the building was its temple.

The woman leaned forward slightly, squinting, as she became aware of movement in the distance, hidden in part by the swirling mists that surrounded the island, offering protection and creating a sense of mystique and intrigue. As she looked a company of maybe a dozen on horseback came into view, having crossed the water to the island and seemingly intent on coming to the temple. The gates stood open and welcoming, as they usually did, but even from this distance she could see the weapons that the men carried.

Cursing under her breath the woman swung her feet down and stood, grasping the bow that sat on the floor next to the chair, the restringing of which had caused her to be there in the first place. Readjusting the short leather waistcoat she wore over a long-sleeved white shirt and swinging a quiver of arrows onto her back, she exited the room and ran down the spiral staircase, the soft soles of her boots making no sound on the stones.

Reaching the ground floor of the temple she dashed outside and down the shallow flight of steps that led to the path, intent on making sure the gatekeepers closed the gates. She cursed again as she realised she was too late, and the mysterious riders had already passed into the garden. Darting into cover behind the row of trees to the left of the path, she hurried a little way towards the gate, before swinging herself up into a tree and perching there. Drawing an arrow from the quiver on her back she lifted her bow and nocked the arrow, ready to fire.

She watched, eyes narrowed in suspicion, as the company neared her hiding place. They were moving slowly, peering from side to side. The majority looked apprehensive, whilst one appeared bored with the happenings, and one looked downright suspicious. She noticed that this man was tightly grasping the handle of his sword. Only the leader carried any semblance of trust and confidence as he rode in the lead.

As she watched, the suspicious looking man glanced up into her tree and his eyes narrowed. Before the woman had time to blink he had his bow out, and was aiming an arrow at her heart. The company came to a halt and peered up into the branches, clearly not possessing similar keen eyesight.

"Tristan?" the man in the lead questioned. The older man simply nodded towards the tree, his bow not faltering.

"Are you going to kill me?" The woman spoke at last, breaking the tense silence. Her tone was mocking, and quick as a flash the man readjusted his bow and fired an arrow, which embedded itself into the tree trunk inches from her head. The woman gave a short bark of laughter and fired her own arrow, the feather-tipped wood landing in the dirt an inch from the front left hoof of the dappled grey mare that the suspicious man was mounted on. The horse gave a snort and took a step backwards.

"Show yourself!" the leader ordered, grasping the handle of his sword. The other men were slowly reaching for their weapons as the woman dropped out of the tree, landing easily on two feet, her bow barely wavering.

"I'm afraid, sir, that your men are trespassing on my homeland. So if you don't mind, I shall be the one giving the orders and wielding a weapon."

The man dismounted his horse. "With all due respect, my lady, I am usually the one who gives the orders. And my men answer to no-one but me."

In an instant, the woman's bow was pointing directly at the man's heart, and the bows of many of the riders were pointed at her. The stalemate was broken by the sound of the heavy wooden doors of the temple opening, and footsteps sounding on the stone steps.

"Rowan! No!" The woman turned and found the High Priestess of the temple hurrying towards her, grey hair escaping from her bun, white robes flowing. Despite her age her blue eyes were bright and sharp, and brightened her wrinkled face with youth. "Lower your bow."

"Sophia, these men are trespassing," Rowan replied, realising with some disconcertion that the leader of the group had turned quickly to stare at her when Sophia shouted her name, and had not taken his eyes away.

"Is it not our way to welcome newcomers and trust them absolutely, unless we have reason not to?" the woman responded, her words sharp but her voice gentle. "Lower your bow." With a sigh, but an expression of respect, Rowan did as she was told. Sophia took a second look at the men before her, and a look of shock and joy spread across her features. "Arthur! Arthur Castus!" She stepped forward and flung her arms around the man, who towered over her, and leaned down to return her warm embrace. "Look how you've grown! It must be ten years since I saw you!"

Arthur pulled out of her arms and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Sophia's hand flew to her mouth. Arthur hurried to speak. "Unfortunately, my lady, we do not come to talk with old friends. One of our number has been deeply wounded – I fear even your legendary healers cannot save him."

"But it is always worth trying," Sophia reassured him. "Where is the knight?"

"Knight?" Rowan echoed.

"Not now, Rowan! Arthur?"

Several of Arthur's men moved their horses aside, revealing a black stallion over which the slim form of a dark-haired man was laid. On either side was an anxious-looking blonde man, one with a long tousled mane of messy hair and braids, the other with shaggy, short hair. Another man, with a shock of black hair, was standing by the horse, holding the reins of both that animal, and his own mount.

Sophia moved forwards and grasped the wrist of the injured man, nimble fingers feeling for a pulse. Her brow furrowed but relief was on her face. "He lives, but he is fading quickly," she murmured, almost to herself. She lifted a makeshift dressing to see his wound, and recoiled at the ugly sight of the slash down his side. She looked at Rowan almost desperately.

"You need Eris?" Rowan asked, referring to the best healer out of all those who resided at Avalon. The older woman nodded. "She's at the village, visiting her mother. I'll fetch her."

"Thank you, Rowan."

The young woman nodded and turned back to the man who was still eying her with distrust from atop his mare, the one Arthur had called Tristan. "I need your horse." The man eyed her with disdain, and didn't grace her with a reply. Rowan frowned impatiently. "I need to ride to the village to fetch Eris, or your friend will die. It will take too long to fetch my own horse."

"She doesn't like strangers," Tristan replied grumpily.

Growling, Rowan stepped forward, offering a hand to the mare. The horse eyed her for a moment with as much suspicion as her master. Rowan started to murmur to her, comforting words in a lilting tone, almost singing. The horse snorted and thrust her nose into Rowan's proffered hand. Smirking, Rowan looked up at Tristan, patting the mare's neck. The man stubbornly glared at her, refusing to move.

"Tristan, let the lady take Ailis," Arthur ordered. The man looked quickly at his commander in fury.

"With every second you waste, your friend slips a second closer to death," Sophia said in her quiet, calming way. With a grunt of acquiescence Tristan dismounted and thrust his reins at Rowan. The woman grinned, grasped the reins, and swung up into the saddle. Turning the horse, she touched her flank with her heels and the mare obediently sprang into a swift canter, leaving in her wake a company of knights blinking in surprise at what had just occurred.

**XXX**

Air rushed past Rowan as she crouched low to the mare's neck, steering her out of the gates and into a sharp turn, until she was cantering back the way she had come but on the other side of the wall. It was only a couple of minutes ride to the village at this pace, and she was soon rushing past bewildered villagers, yelling for Eris. Drawing Ailis to a halt outside the home of Eris' mother, Rowan paused for a moment to appreciate the horse's speed, agility and obedience before unfastening the latch on the gate and hurrying up the garden path. Bursting into the modest home without knocking, Rowan gasped her apologies to the older woman seated in the corner, before turning to the young blonde who was looking at her in surprise.

"Eris, Sophia needs you. A man has been brought to the temple, he's in a bad way – he's going to die, Eris."

The woman nodded and swiftly crossed the room, planting a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I'll come back tomorrow, mama," she promised, before hurrying outside after Rowan, blinking in the bright sunlight as her eyes adjusted from the dim light of the hut behind her. Eris untethered her own horse, Akio, and mounted, as Rowan remounted Ailis and pulled the horse into another sharp turn, urging her again into a fast gait.

The women didn't speak as they completed the short journey to the temple, swinging out of their saddles almost before the horses had stopped moving once they reached it. Both knew speed was essential. Eris looked at Rowan, who laughed and grabbed the reins of the blonde's bay gelding. "I'll take him to the stables." The healer smiled her thanks and hurried up the steps, ready to do whatever she could to save the life of the man who floundered near to death.

Turning, Rowan clicked to the horses to move so she could lead them round the back of the temple to the stables behind it. Before she could take a step, she jumped as she almost collided with Tristan, who had emerged from the shadow of a tree and stood in front of her, arms folded across his chest. Rolling her eyes at the man's action, and inwardly berating herself at being spooked by such a cheap trick, she complied with his unspoken request and handed Ailis' reins to him.

"You've trained her well," Rowan told him, feeling the situation required some speech but unable to think of anything better to say. Tristan gave a curt nod and turned, leading Ailis away. "You could say thank you!" Rowan shouted after his retreating back.

He didn't respond.

She hadn't expected him to.

**XXX**

"Stupid, arrogant, rude…" Rowan muttered under her breath as she vigorously brushed at Akio's glossy coat.

"Speaking 'bout the horse, Ro?"

Rowan jumped for the second time in an hour and turned angrily to complain at whoever had spooked her this time, but softened when her eyes landed on Farrell, the stable boy. At least, he was called the stable boy, but at twenty two summers was very much a man. However, the charge of the stable was granted to his father, so a stable boy he would remain until the charge was passed to him.

"Actually, I was talking about you," she returned.

Farrell looked wounded. "Your words are like a dagger to my heart, my lady." Snorting, Rowan grabbed the comb that rested on the ledge next to her and hurled it at his head. Farrell danced aside, grinning. "I forgot, you aren't a lady." Rowan merely growled. He leaned on the door of the stall that Rowan and Akio were inside, resting his chin on his folded arms. "What has got you in such an impressive mood, eh? Or should I say, 'who'?"

"What are you talking about, Farrell?"

He smirked infuriatingly. "One o' the dozen men that showed up 'ere earlier?"

Rowan shot him a withering glare. "You mean one of those men who smell like cattle that have been standing in their own muck for a week? And don't look much better?"

"Struck a nerve, 'ave I?"

"You're a bloody idiot, Farrell."

"Language, Ro!" Snatching up a handful of grain from the bucket on the floor next to her, Rowan threw it at him. Farrell jumped backwards out of range, laughing at her. "Don't be messin' up my stable now, or my pa'll be after my arse with a whip."

"You deserve it. Now leave me alone!"

"Wildcat," he taunted, a grin still on his face as he finally left, his boots tapping on the wooden floor of the stable as he walked down between the stalls.

Rowan turned back to Akio, grumbling under her breath, promising revenge on both Tristan and Farrell for infuriating her so. Determined as she always was not to let Farrell get under her skin, it seemed she had failed once again, and in the newcomer she could already see someone with the power to make her want to commit murder even more than Farrell did every day.

Finally she had brushed out enough of her annoyance on Akio, who seemed thoroughly delighted with all the attention. He whickered softly and nuzzled her shoulder as she gave him a final pat, before slipping out of the stall and bolting the door securely. As she walked through the dim, peaceful stable she felt tranquillity settle upon her. The smell of hay and the sound of contented horses always calmed her.

Her contentment was short-lived, however, as Tristan once again stepped into her path out of the shadows, this time from a stall which must have been given to him for Ailis. Cursing under her breath Rowan swiftly sidestepped him and walked past the irritating man.

"Thank you."

Her pace faltered for one step as she tried to decide if she had really heard those words, quietly spoken as they had been. She knew he had said them, and grudgingly accepted them as she picked up her pace once more and exited the stable.

**XXX**

Entering the cool shade that the stone temple provided, Rowan wiped her hands on her breeches and hurried up the stairs and down the corridor to the infirmary. All the knights, save for Tristan, were waiting outside the door. Some were sitting, some were slouching against the wall, and Arthur was pacing.

"Any word?" she asked, speaking to no-one in particular.

"No," Arthur responded shortly, running an anxious hand through his dusty hair. Rowan grimaced slightly at the dried dirt and blood loosened by his fingers that fell to the floor. It hardly mattered – the corridor was already dirtied and stained by all the mucky substances that covered the knights.

Rowan knew better than to disturb Eris and the other particularly gifted healers that were working on the young man. She had been taught to heal herself, but had nowhere near the skill of her closest friend. Rowan had shown more aptitude at fighting, a skill the women of Avalon were trained in from a young age. Eris always teased her by saying she'd rather wound a man than save him, but both knew Rowan had no desire to kill – she'd do whatever she could to save someone. Although she was beginning to think she could quite happily run a sword through the maddening Tristan.

She sat herself on the stone floor, slumping against the wall, ready to wait with the knights for news. She looked at the man nearest her, the one with unruly blonde hair that she had noted outside.

"What's his name?"

The man looked at her in surprise, blue eyes shadowed with worry. He seemed to take a moment to register her query. "Lamorak," he replied eventually.

"You seemed to be looking after him outside – is he your brother?"

"Only in arms," the man replied with a hint of a smile.

"So you're all knights?"

The man seemed surprised again, then laughed at himself. "I was stunned for a moment that you didn't know who we are, then I realised –"

"That you were being completely full of yourself?" the woman asked innocently.

The man, who she had expected to be angry, gave a bark of laughter. "No – that Arthur's Sarmatian Knights are seen to be as much of a legend as yourself, a Priestess of Avalon."

"I'm not a Priestess. And I'm surprised you haven't called for my head, a woman being so impertinent."

"Nay, lass, it takes more'n a comment from a sprite like you to anger old Gawain here," a larger, older, bald man standing across from them chuckled.

"Besides, we don't have disgusting Roman attitudes towards women, do we boys?" A man with dark curls and dancing brown eyes spoke up.

"Aye, Lancelot, that we don't – 'thou shouldst be for all ladies courteous, and fight for their quarrels' – right, Arthur?" the older knight bellowed.

"And 'thou shouldst never hold a lady or gentle woman against her will,'" the one called Lancelot continued, throwing Rowan a smirk. "So have no fear of us, my lady."

"I should have no fear of you anyway, sir," she replied politely. "For as soon as a man like you came near me I would knee him so hard in the groin he would never make love to a woman again."

The men howled with mirth at the look on Lancelot's face. "Make 'em feisty here, eh Lance?" the bald man roared, his laughter rumbling in his chest.

"Nothing I can't handle, Bors," the curly-haired knight grumbled. The other knights just laughed harder.

Rowan turned to look again at the blonde seated next to her. "What was that? That they were quoting?"

"The oath of the Knights of the Round Table," Gawain replied.

"That's us," the man on the other side of Gawain confirmed. Rowan recognised him as the man who had been leading the horse that bore the injured one, with his shock of black hair and sparkling green eyes. "I'm Gaheris." He offered his hand and Rowan took it in order to shake it. Before she could, he swiftly raised it to her lips, and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. Rowan glared at him and tugged her hand out of his grasp as the knights roared once more.

"Watch out for that one, lass," Bors advised, chuckling. "As much of a charmer as old Lance, is Gaheris."

Before Rowan could think of a suitable response the door to the infirmary swung open. The seated knights scrambled to their feet as the others straightened and turned their attention to Eris, who stood in the doorway. Her white apron was splattered with blood, and her face was weary and drawn. However, a slight smile was at her lips, her eyes bright.

"I think he shall live."

**A/N :** So, let me know what you think of my new venture!


	2. Infuriation at the Baths

**Author's Note :** Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate every one.

A couple of quick notes – firstly, I was reviewing a couple of my plot lines, and I have changed the injured knight to Lamorak. Hopefully it will work better later on now. Also, a note for this chapter and future ones – I've been doing some research, and anything I say about Roman or Sarmatian practises I've found online, unless I state otherwise. With the knights, some of their characteristics I have taken from a website about the Knights of the Round Table, but I have shaped them into characters myself.

Enjoy the chapter!

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**Chapter 2 : Infuriation at the Baths**

Smoothing down the skirts of her simple blue dress, Rowan considered herself in her mirror, a sheet of highly polished metal mounted on the wall in her simple bedroom. Despite being able to live in breeches, tunics and shirts during the day, if they chose to, it was tradition for the women of Avalon to wear dresses for dinner. Although not her first choice of outfit, she was rather fond of this dress, that Eris and one of the Priestesses, Briella, had given her for her birthday. Or at least, what they called her birthday.

Shaking that thought from her mind Rowan quickly tidied her braid, tucking a few stray strands behind her ears and pushing a small bone comb into each side. Satisfied with her appearance (though not particularly concerned about it, she liked to look presentable) she exited her room and walked down the corridor to the staircase at the end. She descended the steps swiftly, meeting Briella on the first floor as was usual, and going down a second staircase to the ground floor.

"Is Eris still with Lamorak?" Rowan asked her friend as they clattered down the stone steps.

"Yes, and I think she's going to have to be there all night. He's bad, Ro."

Rowan glanced sideways at her. "Really bad?"

"Yes. He took a turn for the worse this afternoon. Don't mention it to the knights – no need to worry them yet."

"Why would I speak to the knights?" she snapped.

Briella came to a stop and grasped her friend's arm to halt her. "Why are you being so defensive?" The woman gasped before Rowan could summon an answer. "You like one of them don't you?"

"No!" Rowan exclaimed. "They look like they've been rolling around in mud for the past week!" Briella just raised an eyebrow, and Rowan sighed. "Sorry, Bri. That damn brother of yours was winding me up."

"You know as well as I do not to take any notice of anything that old pig says!"

"I try my best. And no, I won't say anything to the knights. Like you say, no need to worry them – hopefully he'll pull through."

With that, Rowan took the final few steps to the door that opened into the dining hall. Opening it, she saw that to the left an extra wooden table had been constructed for the knights. They were sitting around it, still relatively quiet, but the sound of laughter drifted from them. Still worried, certainly, but their moods had been lightened by word of Lamorak's condition. Rowan only prayed that they would have so reason to fall into brooding silence again as they fretted about their comrade.

There were two other tables in the room, one in front of the two women, and one to the right. Slipping between the knights' table and the one next to it, they took their usual seats at the far end of the middle table. One of the serving girls that worked at the temple placed a tray of fish in front of Rowan.

"Thanks – Calia, isn't it?"

"Yes, miss," the girl replied, bobbing a slight curtsey. Rowan waved away the formality, wondering how old the girl was – she had a mature face, but was almost impossibly petite.

After eating a plateful of fish and vegetables, Rowan was talking quietly with some of the women who remained at the table when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she found the warm brown eyes of a young, dark haired knight looking down at her.

"Sorry to disturb you, my lady, but one of the men is still up at the infirmary – he refused to leave for dinner. Could we possibly have some food for him?"

"Of course, I'll arrange it," Rowan replied, again noting the warmth and consideration these knights had for one another. The serving girl had returned to clear the plates, and Rowan caught her arm. "Calia? Could I please have a plate of food readied to take to the infirmary?"

"Of course, miss. I'll see to it immediately."

"Thank you, my lady," the knight said to Calia, giving her a charming smile as she blushed furiously and scurried back to the kitchen. Rowan stood to follow her, and the knight took her hand. "I'm Galahad."

"Im –"

"Rowan," the knight butted in, grinning. "Gave us quite a fright earlier, waving that bow around."

Rowan had the good grace to blush, before nodding to Galahad and making her way to the door that led to the kitchen. Calia emerged a few moments later, handing Rowan a laden plate. She smiled her thanks and turned, only to find herself face to face with another knight.

Gawain.

"Let me take that," he smiled, taking the plate from her hands. Again, Rowan smiled a thank you, and led him through the temple to the infirmary.

"Why is the man still waiting outside the infirmary?" Rowan asked as they walked, to break the silence which had been echoing in the stone passages. "Is Lamorak of special importance to him?"

"Percival is his cousin," Gawain answered with a sad smile.

"Are a lot of you family?"

"I am brother to Gareth and Gaheris. Other than that, no. We just fight as brothers."

Rowan smiled. "For what it's worth, I think it's wonderful how you care for one another."

Gawain gave a gruff laugh. "Don't go making us sound soft, my lady."

Rowan snorted. "I'd like to learn more about your company."

"And I would like to learn more about the mysterious Avalon," he returned.

"I could give you the grand tour tomorrow, if you wish," she offered.

"I'd like that," he grinned as they reached the infirmary. Rowan smiled back, but her face quickly fell at the sight of the man slumped in the corridor, head tilted back against the wall. He looked exhausted, and pale with worry. Gawain hurried to his side with the food as Rowan averted her eyes from his suffering and knocked on the door, slipping quietly inside the room.

Lamorak lay on the bed, a sheet pulled to his waist. The wound on his side was stitched and dressed, and Eris stood beside him, dabbing at his forehead with a damp cloth. His chest and face were gleaming with sweat.

"Fever?" Rowan asked quietly.

Eris gave a jolt, having not even realised her presence. "Infection," she concurred with a weary nod. "He's bad, Ro."

"You need me?"

"No, I'm fine. Briella and Kaira are coming to help soon. Hopefully we can get him through the night."

Crossing the distance to the bed in a few short strides, Rowan gave her friend a quick hug. "Good luck," she whispered sincerely before leaving the woman in peace.

**XXX**

Rowan stared at the ceiling in the dim light. Moonlight was playing against the stone, creating shining patterns which danced above her, but even that was not enough to lull her into sleep.

Heaving a sigh she rolled over in bed, twisting herself in the sheets. Despite the tiring events of the day sleep would not come to her. Or perhaps, it was because of the happenings that slumber eluded her.

With a groan Rowan sat up, untangling herself from her sheets and swinging her legs out of her bed. Standing, she padded softly on bare feet to the far side of her room and opened a wooden chest that sat there. She pulled a simple robe on over her nightdress, then pulled out a linen towel and her linen bathing bag, which contained all her supplies for a trip to the baths. She had felt dirty all day from just being near the knights, caked in mud and blood as they were, and thought perhaps the warm waters of the baths would calm her and enable her to sleep.

She slid her feet into her sandals and was soon treading the familiar path through the temple, the passages still and quiet, lit by flickering torches mounted on the walls. Opening the side door as quietly as she could, cringing at the creaking of the hinges, she stepped out into the cool night air.

The building that housed the baths was only a few steps from the temple and she was soon inside, entering the apodyterium. Slipping off her robe she hung it on a hook there, then slid her nightdress off over her head and folded it loosely, placing it on a shelf next to her robe. She then stepped into the tepidarium, seating herself on a bench and placing her bag next to her. Rummaging through it, she retrieved a bottle of sweet-smelling oil and began to apply it to her skin, rubbing the liquid all over her body. Once she was covered in it she pulled out her strigil, and began to run the curved metal down her left arm, dragging the oil from her skin and with it the dirt that clung to her.

Once all the oil had been strigiled off, Rowan tucked all the items back in her bag and kicked off her sandals, sinking into the pool in the middle of the warm water. She laughed aloud at the sensation of the warm water washing away the last traces of oil, finally feeling clean. She loved the baths - the Romans had been good for something, at least.

After a few minutes revelling in the feeling of cleanliness she dragged herself from the pool and slipped back into her sandals. She needed them for the next room.

Opening the door to the caladarium, the blast of heat hit her instantly. This was what she had been looking forward to most – the steamy room, heated by the hypocaust underneath the tiled floor, which contained a large pool, maybe thirty feet in length and fifteen wide. Placing her bag on a bench and her towel next to it, ready for when she was finished, she descended the shallow steps into the hot water and submerged herself in it, the water instantly relaxing her.

Surfacing again, Rowan retreated to the far end of the bath and sat on the submerged ledge that ran around the perimeter of the pool, tipping her head back and idly stirring the water with her hands.

She had been there for a while when the sound of the door opening made her lift her head. The far corner of the room was hidden in shadow, the room only lit by a few flickering torches, and she could not see the newcomer. She heard shuffling footsteps and a slight grunt and stiffened – it was a man.

A dark shape became visible, and as it moved into a pool of light cast by the torch nearest the door Rowan could make out a muscular body covered only by a towel around the waist, and dark tousled hair. He turned slightly and the light caught his face, reflecting off dark, brooding eyes.

Tristan.

As he moved to drop the towel Rowan came to her senses and realised she should alert him to her presence. She cleared her throat and he gave a jolt, clutching his towel tighter as he turned to squint through the steam and shadows that overhung the bath.

She lifted her hand and waved, splashing a little as she did so, and the spraying droplets caught the light, glinting as they cast graceful arcs through the air. He nodded once to let her know he could see her, and loosened his hold on the towel once more.

"Shall I close my eyes?" she called, half mocking and half serious, her voice echoing in the quiet of the room.

Tristan shrugged and, with a speed and grace that surprised her, cast the towel to one side and was in the water before she could blink. He settled against the wall of the bath at the opposite end to her and tipped his head back, closing his eyes. They sat in silence for a while until the silence became almost unbearable to Rowan. She could tell this man did not like to waste words, but she certainly did – silences were often uncomfortable to her, and she would come out with any nonsense in order to dispense of them.

"What brings you here at such a late hour?"

He lifted his head and stared across the distance at her. "I needed a bath." His voice was deadpan.

"I asked for that, didn't I?"

He nodded, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, then relented. "I haven't bathed in a long while."

Rowan chuckled, the sound amplified by the stone. "I had noticed, sir." She wrinkled her nose in teasing distaste.

"Not much chance of a bath on a mission," he told her in his deep, gruff voice.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise at him continuing the conversation, Rowan decided that perhaps he wasn't so irritating after all. "I suppose in the life of a knight, bathing isn't high on the list of priorities."

"No."

"You're from Sarmatia, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And Arthur is your commander?"

"Yes."

"A Roman?"

"Half Briton."

Rowan glowered at him across the distance. His short answers were incredibly frustrating when trying to make conversation. But at least he was speaking. She decided to give it one last try. "You must have a lot of faith in him."

"It is hard to trust him, sometimes."

"I know you trust him," she replied with a knowing smile.

"You do?"

"Avalon is seen as a myth, as a legend. People say you can only find it if you believe it is there. You are here – you must have believed Arthur, when he said it existed."

"I didn't think of it like that," Tristan mused. "It was easy to believe him, though, as he has been here before."

"He has?" She was surprised.

"Don't you remember? That woman – Sophia? – said it had been a long time since she had seen him. When Lamorak was injured, Arthur said he'd been to Avalon before, seen what your healers can do, and it would be worth the risk to bring him here."

"I would imagine that is the most you've said in a year." She thought she saw a ghost of a smile, but wasn't certain, and quickly cast around for another conversation starter. "Do you go on a lot of missions?"

"Yes."

"Are they dangerous?"

"Sometimes."

"Have you ever been injured?"

"Yes."

Now he was irritating her again. "Are you going to stop giving one word answers?" she snapped, her patience vanishing. He didn't reply.

Growling under her breath Rowan dipped under the water again, if only to escape the exasperating man's presence for a few moments. When she emerged she was disconcerted to find him still looking at her.

"You have an unusual name," Tristan commented quietly, his soft voice carrying across the water.

"You have an unusual face," Rowan retorted childishly, still irritated even though he was talking again. "From what I can see of it, at least."

"My tattoos?"

"Yes." Rowan looked at him pointedly, waiting for him to explain, but he smirked and stared straight back at her wordlessly. She rolled her eyes, realising he would not idly share information, and settled back in the water. Then a mischievous smirk came to her lips.

"It is difficult for me to see your face, with your hair hanging in your eyes so."

Tristan shrugged but was silent. Rowan slowly moved through the bath towards him, torchlight dancing on the water she stirred. She stopped in front of him and silently challenged him with her eyes, to move or to speak or to do _something_. His passiveness was beginning to irritate her.

But he didn't move.

Lifting her hand, droplets falling from the skin, Rowan gently laid her fingers against a braid that hung into his eyes and began to push it away from his face. Tristan flinched and, again surprising her with his deftness, grabbed her wrist and stilled the motion. His grey eyes obtained a steely glint, and he looked almost threatening in the dim light. Despite herself, Rowan felt a shiver of fear. She quickly pulled away from him and moved swiftly to the steps, walking out of the bath and wrapping herself in her linen towel. Grasping her bathing bag she hurried out of the room, away from the first man to have scared her in many, many years.

**A/N :** You would not believe how much fun I had writing the bath scene! Naked, wet Tristan – yum!

Also, remember that it is now Lamorak who is injured, so don't be confused by Galahad being at dinner!


	3. Explanations and Rescues

**Author's Note :** Thank you for the reviews! I appreciate every one. But I managed to mess up with replying – I replied to some, and deleted others, and generally screwed up! So if you didn't get a response I apologise, and I'll try to get better at replying from now on!

Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 3 : Explanations and Rescues**

The next morning Rowan awoke, still full of discomfort at what had occurred during the night. The man was infuriating, maddening, frustrating – but now he was disconcerting also. The fearsome glint that had entered his eyes had made him seem ruthless somehow, cold-hearted, and it scared her. Of course, she had thought him odd since she first saw him, with his tattoos and the hair he hid behind, and his general air of a solitary nature, but now there was something more there – something dangerous.

Early morning sunlight was streaming through the window and Rowan decided to miss breakfast in favour of a ride. Within minutes she was dressed in her daily apparel of brown breeches tucked into soft leather boots, a white shirt, and a short leather waistcoat. Soon she was in the stables, having stopped off at the infirmary to find that Lamorak was still fighting his fever, greeting her horse and most prized possession, a chestnut stallion named Astro.

Rubbing the white splash on his forehead and murmuring to him, she didn't notice the presence behind her until he spoke.

"You must be goin' insane if you keep talkin' to th'orses," Farrell mocked with a grin.

Groaning, Rowan refused to turn round. "Unfortunately I can't seem to get better conversation out of the humans in this stable."

"'spose my pa doesn't really 'ave a way with words."

"I was talking about you, you idiot!" she exploded, whirling round. Farrell laughed openly at her and she groaned, kicking at the straw. He knew that. Of course he knew that. Yanking open the stall door she stormed out, shoving him out of the way with an elbow as she made for the tack room.

"You goin' for a ride?" he called after her.

"No, I'm going for a fly," she threw back over her shoulder, hearing a short burst of laughter before she disappeared round the corner.

**XXX**

Rowan took Astro to possibly her favourite place on the island, the highest point on the cliff overlooking the gorge. From here she could hear the thunderous water of the raging river, and see the endless expanse of ocean, gleaming in the sunlight as the rays bounced off the waves, creating shimmering rainbows of colour that danced and flickered in the golden glow of the sun.

The horse fretted as she reached the edge of the cliff, not liking the sheer drop ahead, but she soothed him easily and sat quietly drinking in the view. It was only when Astro whinnied and tossed his head that she realised once more that she wasn't alone.

Looking to the left she saw Tristan approaching at an easy trot and groaned. "Why are all the irritating men out trying to drive me to distraction today, Astro?" she whispered to her horse. He gave a soft whicker and twitched his ears back and she smiled. Sometimes she could swear that horse understood her.

Signalling to him, she turned him to the left and nudged him into a walk, hoping to avoid conversation with Tristan. Not that he was likely to speak anyway. He nodded to her as she passed him and she gave him a curt nod back.

"At least he had the courtesy to acknowledge me," she muttered to Astro, then sighed. "Maybe Farrell was right, and I am losing my mind." The horse tossed his head slightly, as if shaking it, and she chuckled. Maybe he really could understand her.

**XXX**

Emerging from the stables, thankfully having had no further run-ins with Farrell, Rowan found Gawain cross-legged on the grass waiting for her.

"Briella said I might find you out here," he grinned, standing and dusting off his breeches. "We missed you at breakfast." Rowan raised an eyebrow at that but didn't respond. "I'm ready if you are. For the tour, that is," he added hurriedly.

She smiled. "That's fine by me. I won't take you back inside, it's too beautiful a day to be in the temple. I suppose all you need to know about it is that it is a temple, and it's where all the women of Avalon sleep, eat and worship, and where the infirmary is." She started to walk away from the stable, around the outside of the temple and past the baths.

"I don't really understand exactly what the women of Avalon are…religious? Healers?"

"Both," Rowan laughed. "Oh, and these are the baths. Feel free to use them." He nodded his thanks and she began her story. "Originally Avalon was a religious temple, where Priestesses lived and prayed. Then gradually it expanded into a place of aid, to help those who needed it. And I suppose healing is a large part of that. So finally, we became better known for our skills at healing than our religious beliefs."

"So some of you are Priestesses, and some are healers?"

"Yes. And some are both, and some are neither." She laughed at the look of confusion on his face. "Some Priestesses have trained as healers – Briella and Eris, for example. And some that live at the temple are too young to do either yet. We have girls here, sisters or daughters of our Priestesses and healers, who will eventually follow their chosen path. Also, although it is rare, sometimes a situation arises where were take in a young child who needs looking after." A shadow passed over her face, and she pressed on. "There is also a village a few minutes away, where those who need shelter or aid can live. Sophia founded it." She smiled fondly at the thought of the elderly woman, with such a big heart and so much compassion for others.

"But people don't know it exists?"

"People know, but they don't believe. Belief is importance here, and only with belief in our existence can people see beyond the mists and find us." They were walking up the tree-lined avenue now, towards the gates. "Tell me about your knights. You are as much as legend as we are!"

"We are bound to Rome due to an ancient pact," Gawain replied quietly. "After fifteen years service we are free to go home. If we survive that long."

Rowan sighed as they exited the gates and turned right, onto the huge field that lay there, stretching to the forest on the left and down to a lake at the bottom, and then the gorge. "It seems so unfair, Gawain."

"It is unfair, but I suppose you have to make the best out of a bad situation. I suppose if it hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met all the oafs in there." He gestured back at the temple, grinning.

"I don't think I'd have your optimism if I was in your situation!"

"I'm not optimistic," he replied, suddenly serious. "I don't believe I will survive the next five years. As long as I die proudly on the battlefield, what does it matter? Home is but a distant memory now."

Rowan stopped and took his arm, turning him to face her. She had been stunned by his words, wanted to tell him he was wrong, he would survive – but how could she make that kind of promise? "Home is where you make it, Gawain," she said at last.

"Rowan! Rowan!" a small voice squealed, disturbing the seriousness of the moment. Turning, Rowan and Gawain found a young girl running full pelt at them, little legs going furiously. Laughing, Rowan crouched and swept the girl into her arms as she reached them, spinning her round.

"Where have you been, Nhi?" she asked, rubbing her nose against the little girl's.

"Playing," she replied, green eyes wide and innocent. "I got this for you." She held up a small purple flower.

"It's beautiful, thank you." Rowan took it and kissed Nhi's cheek.

"Who are you?" the girl asked, blinking up at Gawain.

"I'm Gawain, my lady," he replied with a little bow. Nhi giggled delightedly.

"Gway!" she repeated. Gawain chuckled. He took the flower from Rowan's fingers and carefully tucked it behind her ear.

"How do you think that looks?" he asked Nhi.

"Pretty!" she replied, clapping her hands together.

Rowan snorted as she fingered the flower behind her ear. "If you say so, little one," she said to Nhi. "You want to go play?"

Nhi nodded vigorously. "Me and Maili are going to pick flowers for the poorly man now."

"That's very nice of you, Nhi. Be careful, won't you?"

The little girl nodded again and shouted her goodbyes as Rowan set her down and she ran off towards another young girl in the distance. Rowan watched her go with a smile.

"Sweet child," Gawain commented.

"She is," Rowan smiled. "The sweetest. She's one of the girls I was telling you about, that we've taken in."

"One of your waifs and strays?"

"Something like that," she laughed. "Her and her mother arrived here – it must be two years ago now – as their village was under Roman occupation and had been raided by Woads. Her husband, Nhi's father, had been killed. Then last winter, Nhi's mother died of illness, so we took Nhi in at the temple."

Gawain gave a low whistle. "Too much suffering for such a young girl."

"Indeed," Rowan replied, turning away to hide eyes shadowed by a distant, painful memory. Her discomfort was hidden by the arrival of another woman, a healer and Priestess by the name of Kaira.

"Rowan, Eris wishes to see you in the infirmary," the young woman said, blonde hair glowing in the sunlight. Gawain turned to her urgently. "Don't worry, it is not urgent," she added. Gawain heaved a sigh of relief and she smiled, but the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Rowan looked at her with some suspicion; Kaira was nice enough, but there was something cold about her, something that raised doubt in Rowan. But she trusted her enough to believe her message and nodded, Kaira excusing herself and leaving.

"While you attend to my troublesome friend," Gawain teased with a smile, "May I explore more of this mysterious island?"

"Wander wherever you wish," she replied. "But watch out for the monsters hiding in the forest!" she shouted at his retreating back. His laughter floated back to her.

Rowan turned to the temple then paused, reluctant to return to the shade of the stone when the sun was so glorious and the sky such a clear blue. It wasn't urgent - surely Eris could wait a few minutes. She sat herself on the grass and then lay back, stretching herself out and allowing her to relax in the golden warmth. After just a few moments a shadow fell over her and she opened one eye, squinting against the sun.

A knight stood over her, one she vaguely recognised from the mischievous sparkle in his warm brown eyes and the impressive curliness of his hair.

"Enjoying the sun, my lady?"

Rowan grunted and sat up, annoyed at having her restful moment interrupted. "I was," she replied pointedly.

"No need to be rude," he said with a smirk, unfazed by her comment. "Most women are glad of my company, not so quick to reject it."

Ah. Now she remembered who he was. The cocky one with a quick tongue; Lancelot. The one that she had managed to silence by threatening injury to the place where he no doubt kept his brain. He wasn't worth her time.

Getting to her feet Rowan dusted her hands on her breeches. "I am required at the infirmary," she said with sarcastic politeness. "Please excuse me."

As she moved to pass him he caught her wrist with gentle fingers and turned her to face him, that irritating smirk still at his lips. She was beginning to think his smirk was even more annoying than Tristan's passive expression. "Are you sure you do not wish me to keep you company here for a while longer?" he asked, with a wink that she was sure had lured many women to his bed during his years of service.

"I thought you knights don't hold ladies against their will?" Rowan looked pointedly at his hand, which still grasped her wrist.

"Perhaps you aren't a lady," he replied playfully.

"Perhaps you should watch your manners!" she snapped, wrenching her hand free.

As Lancelot opened his mouth to respond, a heart-wrenching scream of fear came from the distance. Rowan span round to source the sound, and found herself looking at the lake. A small figure was peering into the water, hands clutched to her mouth. It was Maili.

"No," Rowan whispered, frozen in horror. "NHI!" She yelled the word and took off, feet pounding the ground as she ran like fury. Her braid whipped behind her, strands of hair flying loose. Her fear drove her, mind blank apart from one word which she tried relentlessly to banish.

_Drowning_.

As she neared the lake a figure flew from the forest and crossed the short distance to the water. Rowan slowed slightly as the man leapt onto a boulder that edged the lake, and then dove in. Speeding up again, desperation flooding her, she reached the water's edge just as the man clambered onto the bank, a coughing and spluttering Nhi clutched in his arms.

Gawain.

"Thank the gods – thank the gods!" Was all Rowan could manage as she came to a stop, breathless and panting but exploding with relief. The little girl was clinging to Gawain with her arms around his neck, her face buried against his shoulder. Without hesitation Rowan flung her arms around both of them, tears of relief spilling onto Gawain's already sodden tunic.

**XXX**

Nhi sat wrapped in a towel on Gawain's lap, unharmed by her ordeal. She was still shaken, and refused to let go of the man who had pulled her from the water.

"I need to go to Eris," Rowan told the little girl. "You still want to pick flowers?" Nhi shook her head. "You can still play with Maili, just stay inside the temple garden for today please sweetie." The girl shook her head again, lower lip stuck out petulantly. Rowan sighed. "What do you want to do, Nhi?"

"I want to play with Gway!"

"I think Gway – I mean, Gawain – is busy, sweetie." Her lower lip began to tremble.

"No, I want to play," Gawain said, smiling at the look of relief Rowan sent him.

"Yes!" Nhi scrambled from his lap, towel dropping to the floor, and grabbed hold of Gawain's hand. She started to drag him away.

"Be careful!" Rowan shouted after them, then chuckled. Gawain didn't know what he was letting himself into with that bundle of energy.

Folding the towel that Nhi had discarded, Rowan exited the room and made her way through the temple to the infirmary. Percival was still slumped on the floor outside it, and she shot him a concerned look before entering the infirmary.

Eris was sitting by Lamorak's bed, her hand pressing a damp cloth to his forehead. However, she was slumped over, head resting on the mattress, fast asleep.

Concerned, Rowan crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder. The woman awoke with a start, jerking backwards until Rowan soothed her.

Eris blinked up at her, yawning. "Sorry Ro, I must have dozed off."

Rowan narrowed her eyes at her clearly exhausted friend but decided not to press the point. "You sent for me?"

"Will you please try and persuade Percival to go and rest? He slept out in the corridor last night, he needs to get some sleep and have a decent meal."

"It seems to me you're the one I should be telling to sleep," Rowan replied pointedly. "Have you slept since he arrived here?"

Eris shook her head, then spoke quickly before her friend could chastise her. "I can't leave him! He needs me, Rowan. His condition is so bad, but he wants to pull through, I can tell. I need to get him through this, if only for the knights' sake."

"It's more than that, Eris." Rowan could read her friend easily after so many years of friendship. "Tell me the truth."

Eris sighed. "He speaks in his sleep, Rowan. He has fits, I think it's his fever. He keeps lashing out and shouting, having nightmares – he's been through so many horrible things, seen so much devastation, but he's survived it all. Maybe I can help him survive this."

Rowan stared at her friend for a long while, then nodded. "I'll go and persuade Percival to rest. But then I'm coming back here, and you're going to sleep for a few hours. No arguing," she added quickly as Eris opened her mouth to protest. The brunette sighed and nodded her concurrence. Satisfied, Rowan returned to the door, but as she grasped the handle she looked back over her shoulder. "And Eris? Lamorak may be handsome, but he is also unconscious and badly wounded. Maybe you should ignore your feelings until after he wakes?" Ignoring Eris' shock at her words, Rowan slipped from the room.


End file.
